


quos amor verus tenuit, tenebit

by LunaChi_KuroShihone



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chad - Freeform, Demon Victor Nikiforov, Detroit, Devil Victor Nikiforov, Dork Victor Nikiforov, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Human Katsuki Yuuri, Humor, Katsuki Yuuri is So Done, Light Angst, M/M, Married Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Maybe in later chapters, Oblivious Heartbreaker Katsuki Yuuri, Phichit Chulanont is a Little Shit, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Protective Phichit Chulanont, Protective Victor Nikiforov, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rituals, Soft Victor Nikiforov, Victor Nikiforov is Extra, Victor is a precious mess, Yuuri still skates, but Viktor doesn't, horrorterror makkachin, loosely inspired by Lucifer, oh the chads, on Yuuri's side, they join a cult, this happens when you watch too much Lucifer, very soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-18 17:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16521881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaChi_KuroShihone/pseuds/LunaChi_KuroShihone
Summary: If someone told Yuuri even three months ago that he'd be joining some sort of cult that worshipped and praised and followed Lucifer, he'd have laughed at that person. And then blinked incredulously.If someone had told him four months ago that he'd miss out on his next season in the skating world because he managed to fracture his leg using the jump harness at the skate club, Yuuri would've cried, but accepted his fate in resignation; being a skater was living in constant danger of harming yourself as you crossed the ice in thin knives, after all.Also, if someone had told him that the cost for the hospital visit and the college year and his therapist and literally everything else in his life would inflate to unreasonable amounts, and he'd literally have to resort to selling his soul to the devil, he'd probably have broken down crying.--Or the one in which Yuuri put a ring on it.





	1. in aeternum te amabo

**Author's Note:**

> aka Yuuri is Vincent from Corpse Bride and Viktor is Emily. (Only he's Lucifer Morningstar and Phichit is Ella Lopez, and Yuuri and Chloe are both So Done)
> 
> I definitely took way too long for the title, despite having learned latin for five years. In the end, the internet helped, but hey, at least I tried  
> Quos amor verus tenuit, tenebit = "True love will hold on to those whom it has held" (Seneca)

 

 

_Diabolus Dominus noster_

 

If someone told Yuuri even three months ago that he'd be joining some sort of cult that worshipped and praised and followed Lucifer, he'd have laughed at that person. And then blinked incredulously.

 

If someone had told him four months ago that he'd miss out on his next season -- either all of it or the first half -- in the skating world because he managed to fracture his leg using the jump harness at the skate club, Yuuri would've cried, but accepted his fate in resignation; being a skater was living in constant danger of harming yourself as you crossed the ice in thin knives, after all.

 

Also, if someone had told him that the cost for the hospital visit and the college year and his therapist and literally _everything else in his life, what the fuck?!_ would inflate to unreasonable amounts, and he'd literally have to resort to selling his soul to the devil, he'd probably have broken down crying.

 

_Diabolus Dominus noster_

_In Nomine Dei Nostri Satanas, Luciferi Excelsi_

 

As it currently stood, Yuuri had indeed needed to sell his soul to the devil (or, well, subscribe and enter the Temple of Lucifer church/following/whatever in Detroit, because its members had access to such a thing as _healthcare for active members_ , which sounded heavenly to Yuuri's (and Phichit's) broken student wallets, and he'd like to keep competing come his twenty-first birthday, thank you very much, America.

 

The tipping factor for this truly great offer (and suspicious -- shouldn't something that has _Lucifer_ in its name do evil things? Instead of campaigning for things like the right to accurate medical information, or the Protect Children Project, or -- Phichit's personal favorite -- organizing Pink Masses and Gay Rights Activities), was however one Ketty Abelashvili, who'd been a member for the past few years.

 

That was how Yuuri found himself passing flyers about medical awareness along and attending their group meetings, and talking to the local representatives at Wayne State. Phichit had joined too, much to Celestino's worry, but nothing could distract the seventeen-year-old from the discounts they were getting by being active members.

 

(And it honestly gave Yuuri a chance to pass the time until his leg healed, blegh.)

 

 

_Diabolus Dominus noster_

_In Nomine Dei Nostri Satanas, Luciferi Excelsi_

 

Still, there was a very good reason for Yuuri to be standing in the middle of the forest just outside of Detroit, and it was one he was sure he'd regret come morning.

"So why exactly do I have to do this, Ketty? If the whole organization is about free will and freedom?" There was a summoning circle made out of what Yuuri sincerely hoped was _not_ chicken blood, and five candles were set around the pentagram. An ornate, if ordinary, swiss-army knife was held in the hands of one Sinclair Walton, president of the Wayne State University unofficial ToL-club, and the other members were standing a safe distance behind the pentagram, silently watching.

 

Ketty grinned. "It's for good fun, Yuuri. To be officially recognized as a member of the Temple of Lucifer Wayne State U subdivision, you have to become one with the Lord. So, Satanic Baptism Rites et cetera."

 

Yuuri sighed. Phichit gave him a thumbs-up, grinning and filming everything. "I can't wait to do the same thing next year, Yuuri!"

 

"I really don't understand why Peach isn't allowed to." The Japanese skater sighed, but dutifully walked towards the pentagram, frowning at the candles. He grumbled, walking to Ketty and digging around in his bag, until he came across the incense and scented candles, deftly freeing the old ones from their purpose. If he was doing this, he was going to do it on as much anxiety-induced-stress-and-perfectionism as he could: Yuuri had been informed that this was a supposed 'spiritual union between the devil and himself', where he vowed to follow him and would receive help and support in return (hah).The old candles were almost completely burned down and mismatched, a show of this being college-grade entertainment at its truest, but Yuuri was too competitive and proud to do a less than stellar job (hence the new ones and the incense. Everything a nice deep red).

 

Phichit was too young, to his eternal dismay, and said he'd live vicariously through Yuuri's experience until next year, when he'd be allowed to do the baptism without adult consent, since he'd _be_ the consenting adult.

 

The moon was nearing its' zenith, and Ketty and Phichit shuffled back into the crowd, watching as Yuuri took the knife from Sinclair and cut into his palm, letting the blood well up before he placed the knife back and was left standing alone in the circle. His other hand palmed the omamori he'd readied for this night: a small, nondescript ring with snowflakes engraved inside he'd found at a thrift-store, representing his wish for a better skating season and hope for gold. It would be his personal gift to the devil, a small token of Yuuri's commitment to the cause.

 

Almost eerily, a moonbeam shone on the pentagram, and the skater took one last breath, muttered a curse for the absurdity of his situation, and switched palms, so that the ring would be coated in his blood.

 

(Yuuri had, in fact, spent the better part of last week searching through the internet for what he hoped were good enough vows, bastardizing two or three different baptism rites together _for the lulz,_ as Phichit had so eloquently said.)

 

Yuuri just wanted to go home. He was a tired skater, okay?

 

Still, he dutifully recited the Latin vows, hoping he didn't mispronounce anything too badly, trying to remember when the second part was about to end, so that he could drop the ring to the ground _precisely_ when he'd uttered "... _et voveo praedonis anulum cum hoc erit tibi. Nam omne aeternum."_

 

Which he did. With this last verse, Yuuri was now officially a member of the ToLWS, and he was in a commitment with the devil. Satan. Lucifer. Whatever. He was about to turn around and tell Phichit and Ketty that he was _definitively_ done for the next few weeks with social interaction, when the ground started to vibrate faintly.

 

Yuuri had just about enough time to blink, and then --

 

Darkness.

 

...

 

..

 

.

 

..

 

...

 

Yuuri's head hurt, his throat felt parched, and everything was sore. He groaned, rolling around his bed, trying to find his nightstand and his glasses without having to open his eyes, when his hand bumped against something. Opening his eyes blearily, he turned around to figure out whether he'd fallen asleep with Phichit while they had a movie marathon, or if he'd accidentally stole his lecturer's dog again.

 

He blinked when the blurry shape in front of him was neither.

 

"Um." He'd located his glasses thankfully, on the pillow next to him, so he hurriedly put them on, feeling dread pooling into his stomach. ...He'd probably gotten drunk after the baptism yesterday -- Yuuri was a forgetful drunk.

 

The man Yuuri was currently lying in the bed of (a cursory glance revealed that it was definitely not his room) was beautiful, with short platinum hair covering silvery lashes. What was visible of his skin was smooth and seemed to glow, a pale color that did nothing to hide the flush that spread across his nose and chest, littered with -- yep, those were definitely love bites. At least drunk Yuuri had very good taste. Yuuri almost felt bad for this pale-haired stranger that he'd have to deal with sober Yuuri, who was generally a mess, always. Forever.

 

The man stirred, his movement breaking the silence that had settled over them, and blinked awake. Yuuri froze.

If he didn't move, maybe the stranger would go back to sleep?

 

He hadn't such luck, as he sat up and stretched, his spine cracking softly. _"Mmmmn."_ His hand stroked trough his hair absentmindedly, before he seemed to remember that Yuuri was still in bed to his right, and he canted his head to the side, revealing too-blue eyes. "Good morning, love."

 

Yuuri made a questioning noise.

 

The man smiled at him, an incredibly precious and sweet heart-shaped one, his features softening. "Last night was wonderful, darling -- the best surprise I had in a long time, really. I didn't think --" He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. How are you feeling?"

 

"I- uh," Yuuri didn't remember a thing about last night. Which wasn't all that surprising, really, but it would be nice to at least know the name of this gorgeous stranger. "...I, sorry, but -- what's your, I mean, what can I call you?" So smooth, Yuuri.

 

He flinched, and Yuuri was ready to backpedal and apologize, before something small and old crossed the man's face. "It's been a long time since people wanted to call me by any name, so -- how about you call me Viktor? I've some quite fond memories of it."

 

Viktor quirked the corner of his lips, and Yuuri was helpless to do so as well, drawn to him.

 

At least he had _some_ information now. Silently amazed that he wasn't panicking yet, Yuuri was about to ask where he was, but he paused.

 

Something wasn't adding up in his memory, and it had nothing to do with his drinking habits -- he hadn't been drinking yesterday. Hell, Yuuri didn't even remember leaving the forest with the others, only the sudden darkness as the moon was clouded over.

 

Viktor's eyes flashed, growing worried. "Yuuri, love, are you all right?"

 

The warm, fuzzy feeling disappeared just like that, and Yuuri's eyes widened. "Um, Viktor, why do you-?" Why was this stranger calling him pet names? Almost like a film, Viktor's expression shuttered. "I'm sorry; do you not like it?" He looked contrite. "Of course you don't like it, what am I thinking? We've only been married since yesterday, I guess things like that need time, no?" He shrugged, a wry smile crossing his lips.

 

Yuuri could feel the growing panic inside him. _What in the…?_

 

"I'm sorry, again. It's just -- the last time I had significant interaction with humans was... in what felt like half an eternity? Slightly less? I didn't think… I didn't believe that anyone would ever want to… well, you know?"

 

No, Yuuri did not. Yuuri did not know anything anymore, it seemed. He didn't understand anything, either. The only thing the skater knew, was that he didn't like seeing Viktor so down or sad, because even if Yuuri's only known this man for a few minutes while sober, it tugged painfully at his heart to see him so... _broken._ So he clamped down on the growing panic and awkwardly petted Viktor's shoulder, before his hand rested on the other's.

 

The man visibly brightened. "Thank you," Viktor breathed. "It means so much to me." Their fingers tangled together, and Yuuri felt something cold brush against his. He glanced down to their joined hands, Viktor's gaze following, and a cry got stuck in his throat as he saw his omamori resting delicately (as if it always belonged there) on Viktor's ring finger.

 

"Your vows were beautiful -- even if quite unorthodox, I must admit. But promising me eternity… oh, Yuuri. Nobody had ever, well. Such a beautiful proposal, and then the ring!" He squeezed their hands together, unaware of Yuuri's current mental state. "Nobody ever wanted anything to do with me, I guess."

 

Yuuri had started shaking, tiny tremors running through his body. "You… oh god, you -- I mean --" Was he even allowed to say that? What was his life, even? Somehow, in the span of a single night, Yuuri had proposed to and married himself off to the --devil? Satan? Lucifer? Viktor? His botched Latin baptism rite was equals to a marriage vow? And his omamori -- his omamori in the form of a ring was what sealed the union?

 

Viktor noticed Yuuri's panic attack (or didn't recognize it for what it was, but noticed his labored breathing), because he turned towards Yuuri and shuffled closer, pulling their joined hands towards his chest and splaying them over his heart. The steady beat of it calmed Yuuri down somewhat, as well as the sincere expression Viktor wore.

 

"Relax, it's only an idiom. I'm not going to suddenly get mad because of a linguistic quirk that developed somewhere along the way. You can continue to use it. And you can ask me questions if you want."

 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Yuuri was regretting everything that has led up to this moment, but he was way past his usual anxieties (and it wasn't as if this was a usual situation anyhow), so his filter was currently nowhere to be found. Which is why the first thing to leave his mouth was, "You don't really look like the devil." He cringed. Way to go, Yuuri.

 

Viktor grimaced, not offended. Letting go of their hands, he pointed at his face. "It's a glamour, sort of. My true face is… abhorrent. It is not something I wish you to see, if possible. I'm not, however --" he snorted, "-- some ridiculous goat-man-with hooves and all-thing. That's entirely made up. My anatomy is mostly human." He smirked. "As you will remember of last night."

 

Yuuri nodded, dumbstruck, blushing madly. Viktor gave an encouraging smile. "Are... this is Hell, then?"

 

"Yes. I guess it's rather hard to believe? A boring place, to tell you the truth. Nothing but icy walls everywhere."

 

_And the souls of the damned_ , Yuuri thought, but didn't voice. Viktor was... not what Yuuri imagined the devil to be like, that much was certain. There were quite a lot of pressing issues at hand, other than his shock, which Yuuri was pretty sure was what kept him so calm, but one more than the others. "If I'm in Hell with you… can I go back? Because -- I still have to skate, I have to prepare for the Olympics, and look after Phichit, and--"

 

A cold finger to his lips silenced Yuuri, Viktor smiling at him, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yes, you can leave. I won't keep you shackled to this place, Yuuri. You -- you have your own life, so it's reasonable for you to want to go back to it."

 

Yuuri breathed out in relief as the finger disappeared. "That's… good. I just thought, with the ...ring..."

 

"Only because we're married doesn't mean that we have to spend every waking minute with each other. If you want, you can… leave." The warmth was still there in Viktor's gaze, but it had lost its shine. he looked worn, old and haggard, and so _sad_ that Yuuri had to bite his cheek to keep from berating himself. Viktor had just told him how happy he was that Yuuri choose to marry him. And had given him a ring. And somehow, no matter how crazy it made him, Yuuri really didn't like Viktor looking sad.

 

Which was ridiculous. Viktor was the devil. Lucifer. Satan.

Viktor also seemed incredibly lonely. And melancholy. And it wasn't right to see him without a smile. He seemed so... vulnerable. As if Yuuri -- plain old dime-a-dozen Yuuri -- was holding the power to destroy him with only his next words.

 

That was so wrong.

 

Yuuri thought back to the group meetings Sinclair would organize, when they'd sometimes debate whether the devil truly was as evil as he was made out to be, or if he was as much a victim of his circumstances as some other figures in similar places. After all (as Ketty had pointed it out) Hades was a well-respected god in ancient times, before modern interpretations turned him into the bad guy. Hades was one of the only Olympians who respected his wife, and by all accounts Persephone was quite content with life in the Underworld.

 

(Did that make Yuuri Persephone? And Viktor Hades?)

 

So why wouldn't the devil be in a similar situation? Everyone was afraid of him and scared, so they turned him into the bad guy.

 

And Viktor seemed so _happy_ about the ring. Even now -- while Yuuri was doing some soul-searching, he was toying around with it with a soft touch and hurt posture. Yuuri wasn't able to see his eyes, because he had hunched over, but he could imagine how they were filled with resignation that Yuuri would leave him any minute now, to never see him again.

 

The skater groaned, drawing the devil out of his contemplative gaze. "...Yuuri...?" Even his _voice_ sounded small and broken, damnit!

 

Yuuri was utterly mad. He'd already become a follower when he'd entered the Temple of Lucifer (for some extra cash, if he was being honest; because of American healthcare and student loans and skating expenses shooting up) and managed to put a ring on the devil in his baptism rite, so Yuuri would see this marriage through, as well. Come high and low waters.

 

(Viktor at least seemed more decent than most of the guys Yuuri hooked up with, oh the irony.)

 

"Can you leave?"

 

Viktor blinked, stunned, then hurt. Then resigned. "I -- yes, of course. I'm so sorry, I'll just --" He made to stand up, before Yuuri realized his mistake. He grabbed Viktor's hand again, tugging him back into bed. "No, sorry, that's not. That's not what I meant. I meant, can you leave Hell, or will the apocalypse happen if you do so?"

 

It was beautiful to watch, the transformation: his frown disappeared, his eyes got their shine back, and his mouth curved into the heart-shaped smile from earlier. "Yes! I can leave, this place is pretty self-sufficient. I mean, I wasn't always around to look after it, but yes. I can." There was a childish hope in Viktor's movements, how his attention focused solely on Yuuri and no-one else, awaiting his judgment.

 

"Then, I would like to go back; I'm sure Phichit is worried, but Viktor... do you want to come with me?" Yuuri said, finding it surprisingly easy to ask. Viktor nodded vigorously, _beaming_ at Yuuri through his lashes.

 

He really was unfairly attractive.

 

_Oh god,_ he thought. _I just invited the devil into my house._

_And I think he's in love with me_.


	2. cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow Celestino is the only rational one in this, and Phichit shows us exactly why he has those tags. And somehow Viktor manages to be even softer than before, which. okay. I can live with it, very much so.
> 
> ((These bois are so s o f t I can't even))
> 
> chapter title means "May he love tomorrow who has never loved before; And may he who has loved, love tomorrow as well" by Pervigilium Veneris, whoever that was
> 
> ((also, this has now art in the first chapter, so maybe check it out? ))

Phichit Chulanont was currently a very worried skater. Yuuri had simply -- _disappeared_ in the wee morning hours, probably being taken by _the devil_ , after performing a goddamn baptism rite.

 

There had been stunned silence, and creeping terror, Sinclair blinking hopelessly at what had happened while Ketty paled. The Thai teen had whirled around, demanding an explanation, only to see the other members scrambling backwards in terror; Chad of the hockey team, who'd only joined the session because he'd wanted to spend more time with Yuuri, had thrown up before stumbling backwards through the forest.

 

"Did this ever happen before? Did you know this would happen?!"

 

Sinclair had shaken his head, eyes never leaving the silent circle.

 

Phichit had been _livid_.

 

In the end, Ketty had driven him to their dorms, white-knuckled and shaking.

 

"Something like this has never happened before, Peach. _Believe me._ We'll figure something out, I promise. _"_ It had sounded hollow to both of their ears. Who'd have ever believed that -- that the devil was responsible for Yuuri's disappearance?

 

He had stayed silent until they were at his and Yuuri's -- _oh, Yuuri._ With trembling hands, Phichit had unlocked the dorm room, Ketty hovering behind him. "I want to be alone for the rest of the night, Ket. And I want to be involved first things come morning, okay?"

 

It was early noon by now, and Phichit had barely slept, staying on the couch and researching as much about demons and angels and rituals as he could, but none had helped, in the end. Yuuri was still gone. He couldn't even really blame the other students, considering all of them (with the exception of Chad, who was more of a pesky pet) had passed the rite without a hitch.

 

His phone buzzed, reminding him that Celestino was expecting him and Yuuri at the rink in -- two hours. This was supposed to be Yuuri's return to singles, after only skating figures for the past two weeks.

Oh god, he'd have to tell Ciao Ciao what happened.

 

Grimacing, Phichit reached for the still-buzzing object, trying to come up with a reason to miss out practice without giving away that Yuuri might be gone. Or worse; might be dead, whisked off by the devil himself.

 

_> > Hey Ciao Ciao, Yuuri's feeling under the wh_

 

He stopped typing. Someone was nearing the door, talking softly to another person. Normally, this wouldn't be strange: this was a student dorm, so people were bound to walk in front of other's doors all the time. No, but what _was_ strange, to Phichit's already high-strung mind, was the tone used, so deliberately soft that the words didn't carry at all.

 

And whoever they were, they weren't _leaving_.

 

A soft _click_ echoed through the room as the skater froze, unable to take his eyes off the entrance. Yuuri was the only one who had a key, next to Celestino, but their coach was at the rink coaching the pair skaters. Phichit scrambled to the kitchen, his gear already packed in its bag, frantically throwing off the skate guards of one of his skates -- they were the sharpest object in their dorm.

 

The voices were coming from the inside now, and Phichit wavered, uncertain. What should he do?

 

The decision was taken from him as the door opened abruptly, and _Yuuri_ wandered inside, looking utterly _exhausted_.

 

The second voice was forgotten as Phichit almost dropped his skate in relief. "Yuuri!"

 

Yuuri flinched, eyes full of guilt. "Phichit..." Phichit didn't care -- he ran up to him, crushing him in a hug, clawing at his back.

 

"I'm so sorry, Yuuri -- I didn't think -- we don't have to…" He sniffed, leaning back. "We don't have to be members of the ToL anymore, screw the discounts, we can live off on instant-ramen and cup noodles for the next few months until your next season starts and you start winning, and--"

 

There was a wry smile on Yuuri's lips, the older skater stepping out of Phichit's embrace. He shook his head. "I'm sorry that you were worried, Peach. I'm… not fine, but going to be."

 

"What happened?"

 

"Well," Yuuri glanced back, and Phichit was abruptly reminded that there had been another person accompanying Yuuri, "there had been a... slight miscommunication."

 

"Yuuri Katsuki," the teen glared at his friend. "did or did you not magically disappear from the pentagram while doing a baptism?"

 

Yuuri flinched again. "I did."

 

Phichit nodded. "Good. Now, if you excuse me --" He grabbed his skate again, and stalked towards the living room, only belatedly realizing how incredibly _foolish_ it probably was. The Japanese skater trailed after him much like a kicked puppy would, head low in defeat.

 

There was a stranger -- holy shit what a good looking stranger! -- in their living room, eyes fascinatedly trailing after one of his hamsters. A momentarily panic seized over him (his babies, he left them all alone with this _fiend!),_ before he took in the whole picture: the silver haired stranger had Sir Squeaks-A-Lot on his shoulder, Arthur in his palms, and Obi Wan Handsome-Kenobi was happily walking around the coffee table.

 

It posed an utterly ridiculous picture. Enough so that Phichit lowered his skates. He was about to clear his throat, when the stranger turned around, cautious of his shoulder-hamster. He smiled. "Hello, you must be Phichit!"

 

_What the fuck?_

Why was his smile so precious?!? Phichit was supposed to be angry at the stranger for potentially whisking Yuuri away, not coo over how sweet he was with his precious babies!

 

Phichit blinked, unnerved. "I -- yes. That's me, Phichit. And who are you?"

 

"My name is --Viktor!" Obi Wan squeaked, and Viktor's hand automatically went to put the hamster onto his other shoulder, seemingly on autopilot, without breaking Phichit's gaze, that annoyingly cheery smile still on his lips. His eyes darted over to Yuuri, full of emotion. His smile, impossibly, widened. "I'm Yuuri's husband!"

 

"Vik _tor --!!"_   Yuuri spluttered.

 

"What." Phichit stared. "What?" He turned to Yuuri, whose face was a flaming red, but he didn't really refute the statement. "...Yuuri Katsuki, _what_ the hell happened?"

 

Viktor grinned. "He proposed to me! You were there too, as witnesses --" he paused, turning to Yuuri. "is it called witnesses? groomsmen? grooming tools?"

 

"Witnesses is good, Viktor."

 

"Thanks, love. So, yes. You witnessed it too! It was so romantic, and--"

 

Phichit blinked. He held up a hand. "Okay, hold up. Time out. Yuuri, kitchen."

 

Viktor looked profoundly confused, so Phichit added, "Best friend shovel talk."

 

* * *

 

"What in the world is even going on, Yuuri?!" Phichit was leaning against their counter, skate still in hand, now menacingly pointed at Yuuri. Who sighed. "This is going to sound completely and utterly crazy, but listen, Peach."

 

"Oh, so the man currently claiming to be your trophy husband is not crazy enough?

 

"All right, first, he's never said anything about being a 'trophy', Phichit --"

 

Yuuri was met with a raised eyebrow. Yuuri relented. "... Viktor's the devil whom I more-or-less accidentally proposed to during my baptism rite, and the omamori -- which yes, he's currently wearing it on his right ring finger -- was the wedding band. We're, ah. Officially married. Or something."

 

Yuuri winced; Phichit's expression was blank. "Wait. You want to tell me that you -- that he's --" his expression turned ashen. "Shit, Yuuri, what are we going to do?"

 

"Ah. That's, well." The skater glanced back to the living room. "I don't really know how I went from Point A to point B, but somewhere between me disappearing and waking up with a peacefully sleeping Viktor next to me, he's… maybe… fallen in love with me? Or very heavily in like, at least."

 

Phichit stared. "I seem to be asking this a lot today, but, what? But he's --"

 

_"I know,"_ Yuuri hissed. "I could've left without him, but Phichit, he was so goddam _happy_. And I don't remember what I did!"

 

"No, wait. Let me get this," the skate was put on the table. "You vanish from the pentagram, somehow charm the hell out of the devil, maybe sleep --" Yuuri blushed scarlet, glancing everywhere but at the Thai. "Scratch that, drunk Yuuri is a disaster gay on legs, so. _Definitively slept with_ the devil, _what is my life even_ , and could've gotten away from him but took him with you, why? _T e l l_ me why, Yuuri."

 

"He - it. I mean, he was all charming smile and pet names, and praises _(Oh, look,_ Phichit muttered _, he acknowledges his praise kink for once)_ and actually. Well." The answer was barely a grumble. Yuuri was still blushing. "He seemed so, I don't know… sad, Peach. I couldn't -- well, leave him. I just -- no. I'm not that heartless."

 

A second passed.

 

Phichit laughed. "Oh god, Yuuri, you're -- I don't even know! A pretty boy looks at you with a teary gaze and you can't leave him alone. This is gold, Yuuri. You -- you managed to make the devil fall for you. It's oblivious heartbreaker Yuuri all over again!"

 

Yuuri choose to ignore the last part. And the first.

 

A sad thing that his silence was telling enough.

 

"Yuuri, no. This is great. I'm actually impressed --" Phichit wheezed, "-- that you managed to recognize that he likes you." Yuuri was about to retort, but the Thai skater continued, sobering. "All of that aside, though. He didn't hurt you, did he?"

 

Yuuri smiled. Friends like Phichit Chulanont were rare. "No, I don't think so. Like I said, I can't really remember; when I woke up, I thought I had too much to drink, but." He shrugged. "No, he didn't hurt me. I think I hurt him more with my insensitivity."

 

"Oh, so you talked it through like the responsible adult you are, and told him that you don't remember last night, and Viktor brought you here? How nice. I'm proud of you."

 

 

…

 

 

…

 

 

"Yuuri? Yuuri no." Yuuri flinched, but Phichit pressed on, his hand hovering between them. "Yuuri, please tell me you told the devil that you do not, in fact, remember what is essentially your wedding night."

 

The skater squirmed. "But, _Phichit_ \-- Viktor looked so sad when he thought that I was terrified of him despite of the vows and the night and him being the devil. And. Well, I couldn't just tell him that I was, in fact, terrified of him because he's the devil."

 

Phichit was decidedly unimpressed with Yuuri. "This is Brad and Kevin all over again, Yuuri."

 

Alright, _no._ The Japanese skater bristled. That was a low blow even for Phichit. "Watch it, Chulanont," he hissed. "we do not speak of Kevin, under pain of clear, excruciating hurt."

 

Kevin was, for better or for worse, drunk Yuuri's type. He was tall, dark and handsome with the most piercing blue eyes he had ever seen. Phichit would even go as far as to say that he was Yuuri's ex, if it wouldn't have been very clear that he'd only used Yuuri for his own gain. Not even drunk Yuuri had been that desperate, after finding out that Kevin gloated to his teammates about the medal-winning boyfriend who let him touch the shiny things. And that had been only the beginning.

 

Ugh, Kevin had been the worst.  

 

Yuuri took a deep breath. "Viktor isn't like that. Please, Phichit, don't tell him that I don't remember. I don't think my heart can take it."

 

Phichit nodded; a slight inclination of his head. He had all intentions of asking Viktor as well (as subtly as possible), but the silver-haired man came trotting in, the three hamsters nestled in his hair and sleeping. "Phichit? Your phone went off, an alarm of some sort. I thought you'd like to know."

 

_...why is the devil so goddamn adorable?_ Mentally shaking his head, he glanced at his screen.

 

And paled. "Shit, Yuuri! We have to be at the rink in twenty minutes!"

 

* * *

 

They did not make it to the rink in twenty minutes, mostly because Viktor had forgotten that the hamsters were on his head after they'd arrived at the first stoplight and the fuzzy little creatures squeaked from the cold.

Phichit made them turn around as soon as he noticed.

 

Celestino was looking decidedly unimpressed with them, Yuuri noted, but for once he couldn't find it in himself to care. He constantly kept glancing at Viktor, who was taking everything in with fascination while Phichit apologized to their coach. There was a wrinkle between those brows though, so Yuuri nudged him. "Hey."

 

Despite how strange everything was, this felt _right._ "Hey, you." Viktor kept his gaze on the ice, his breath foggy. A small, private, smile graced his lips. His mouth formed silent words, and Yuuri was drawn to it, trying to decipher what they could mean, before Viktor's gaze drifted over to him. "I heard your wish, you know? About wanting a good season."

 

Yuuri blushed. "Y-you did?" Oh god, this kept getting worse. Viktor simply nodded. "You don't wish for gold, you only _hope_ for it."

 

"There's a distinction?"

 

"Yes. Hope means that it doesn't necessarily have to come to fruition, but that you'll still do your best to achieve it. After your injury and the half of the season that you've missed --"

 

Yuuri would never get to hear the end of that sentence, because Phichit choose that moment to reappear without Celestino, pointing towards Viktor. "Viktor."

 

"Hm?" The devil turned around, arms crossing loosely.

 

"We got maybe five, seven minutes before Ciao Ciao will walk over here and demand who you are, so we'd better get a cover story, fast."

 

Viktor blinked, affronted. "You wish me to lie?"

 

Phichit nodded.

 

"I cannot. The devil tells no single lie."

 

"You -- what? Really? Not even for this?"

 

The blue eyes were piercing. The air around Viktor seemed to freeze, and something close to anger was shimmering beneath the surface. Almost involuntarily, Yuuri took a step back. "I can misdirect and be selective, but I will not outright lie. Never. Lying is for those who are feeling ashamed and guilty of their actions, so they try to butter up the truth with lies and slander." For another second, the air was charged, Phichit staring wide-eyed at the devil, before Viktor sighed and the tension dissipated. It was replaced by something older, wearier. "Please do not make me lie, Phichit."

 

Phichit nodded, dazed. "Right. No lies. Okay. Then what will we tell Ciao Ciao?"

 

"The truth. That I am here on Yuuri's behalf because he needs me." Viktor smiled, and Yuuri eased back to them. "No telling Coach about the -- marriage." Viktor's eyes flashed with hurt, so he hurriedly added: "Not now, at least, or he'll be suspicious. All right, Viktor?"

 

"Yes, Yuuri."

 

Phichit grinned at them, before glancing back to the approaching coach, grimacing. "Well, here goes nothing. Ciao Ciao! This is Viktor!"

 

The Italian-American coach looked Viktor warily over. "...right. And who are you?"

 

Viktor unfolded from his position and held out his hand as he spoke. "I am something of an artist myself, and I would like to help Yuuri further his skating." Celestino narrowed his eyes, but Viktor continued, unfazed. "As he stands now -- his injury notwithstanding -- his routines don't utilize his abilities to the fullest. There is an extraordinary talent hidden behind those glasses, and I want to see it come to life on the ice. Yuuri can make music with his body, and I want the world to see."

 

Yuuri blinked, stunned. He hadn't expected this. Out of all the possibilities he'd imagined, Viktor offering to help him so... directly was none of them; he didn't think that the devil would consider something like _work_ once they made their merry way to Phichit. Not even tagging along, with them to the rink -- Yuuri could easily imagine Viktor in bars or high-end locales, talking with celebrities and important politicians rather than the likes of Phichit, Celestino or himself. Despite his misgivings, however, the first thing that crossed his mind was, "You -- you'd choreograph for me?"

 

Viktor's smile softened oh-so-slightly, and he nodded, letting go of Celestino's hand and turning his full attention to Yuuri. "Of course, Yuuri. If you'd have me."

 

Celestino watched them, wary. "I'll be the one to decide that. I'll give you a week, Viktor."

 

The devil inclined his head.


	3. Serva me, servabo te

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Viktor talk, and there's cuddles. Lots and lots of cuddles. And feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how unanimous all of you are that Kevin's a dick. it's really, really great. Don't worry about him, he'll get what he deserves.  
> I'm also still floored by how much everyone seems to like my soft devil Vitya, so have another big dose of fluff in this chapter. Yuuri's really in over his head, lol (it once again got softer. this is officially the softest I've ever written) 
> 
> Thank you everyone for the comments and kudos, I love you all <3
> 
> serva me, servabo te = "Save me and I will save you." by some guy named Petronius Arbiter

 

Practice had gone well that day, Yuuri testing his way through single jumps until he felt confident enough in their execution; Phichit, Viktor and Celestino had all watched him like hawks and had, at his smallest stumbles, seemed more uneasy than him, which was a first, really. What followed afterwards was a quick call to Ketty and a promise to explain everything _tomorrow, Ketty, I'm incredibly tired,_ and a crash on their couch.

 

Head first, naturally.

 

"I'm never, ever, ever moving again. Ever."

 

Phichit sniggered, with Viktor silent since practice.

 

Yuuri groaned. "I mean it, Peach. Me and this couch, we're in symbiosis from now on."

 

"You said that last week about the pizza place down the road. And about Alexei Ivanov's couch two weeks before that."

 

Yuuri shrugged into the fabric. "I don't care." He burrowed deeper.

 

Phichit walked over and sat down next to Yuuri's legs, ignoring the indignant huff, as he poked the laying skater between the ribs. "No falling asleep on the couch, Yuuri. It's bad for your back and leg. C'mon. Wakey wakey--"

 

What followed after, Yuuri could recall with startling clarity: Viktor had made an uncomfortable noise, glancing between the two of them, seemingly trying to disappear into nothing as he stood awkwardly at the head of the couch. They had stopped their good-natured bickering, and Yuuri had sat up, focusing on the devil (he was, in a way, Yuuri's responsibility. Marriage and all that jazz). In the short timespan of roughly twenty hours -- twelve, if they only counted their time spent on Earth -- Yuuri had learned that Viktor was an incredibly lonely creature that hadn't had any significant human interaction in a long while. "Are you all right?"

 

He nodded, slowly. "Yes. I simply don't want to intrude --"

 

Before Yuuri could answer, Phichit did. "You're not, don't worry." He looked apologetic. "I forgot you were there -- sorry, Viktor."

 

* * *

They somehow found themselves squeezed in Yuuri's small bed sometime in the wee morning hours (who needs sleep anyway?), Viktor having migrated there from his initial resting place: the couch.

 

("It really is comfy," he'd remarked, visibly surprised. "It probably is the most high-end product we own, next to some of the kitchen ware," Phichit had answered.)

 

Yuuri had tensed up at first, before Viktor apologized, looking shifty. "It's so lonely out there, Yuuri. And silent. I can't even hear the hamsters." He'd relented pretty fast after that, and the platinum-haired man squished himself between Yuuri and the wall, tentatively curling his palm around Yuuri's.

 

(He didn't know why he suddenly felt the need to apologize as well. He didn't know why anyone could call such a beautiful, compassionate and fragile man such terrible things.)

 

So here they were laying, side-by-side, as Viktor's finger played with his ring absentmindedly, expression peaceful.

 

"You really like the ring that much?" It was a whisper. Viktor glanced up, eyes shining electric blue in the shadows.

 

"Yes. It's the most beautiful thing anyone's ever given me."

 

(Yuuri felt something like guilt churn his insides.)

 

Viktor returned his gaze to it, shuffling closer to Yuuri until their palms were caged between their hearts and their foreheads touched. "I know that you are still afraid of me, Yuuri." His voice was soft. "It's only natural -- Phichit is afraid too, so very much. He tries not to show it, but he's barely moving in his room."

 

Yuuri blinked, leaning back just the slightest bit to see Viktor's face. "You can hear him?"

 

"No. He is -- praying. I can feel the prayer, even if it isn't directed at me, in such close proximity." Viktor shook his face, bringing their hands up to his mouth, mimicking the gesture. "Angels are able to hear humanities' prayers."

 

_This -- this opens such a can of worms,_ Yuuri thought. He's never been any sort of religious -- even after joining the ToL -- but the implications in Viktor's sentence were too grand to ignore. Angels existed? Was Viktor, if he'd been able to sense the prayer, also one? Did he fall from grace and abandon his name? Viktor has all but alluded to there being a God, with capital 'g'. His tone was final, however, so Yuuri didn't dare press for more.

 

Instead he let their foreheads bop together, wondering about the impossibilities of this man. Viktor's eyes were closed as he spoke again, now even softer. "What do you wish me to be to you, Yuuri? I can be anything you desire, as long as you'll have me."

 

Yuuri frowned. "We're practically married. That makes us husbands, no?"

 

"Ah, how astute an observation." Viktor huffed a laugh, eyes opening half-mast. "Regardless of our marriage, I wish you to be comfortable with me, which you clearly aren't. I have eyes, Yuuri. Should I be a brother? A father? a friend?"

 

Yuuri made a breathless noise, and Viktor smiled. "Then your lover, hm? Whatever you desire, I will fulfill that role for you, Yuuri."

 

"No, no --" Yuuri huffed, eyes closing. At the rate this was going, he was going to fall for this lonely, lonely man sooner or later; there simply was _something_ about Viktor that made it impossible for Yuuri to resist. Not that he found himself wanting to. "I want you to just be yourself."

 

Viktor's eyes widened as he continued. "It doesn't matter if that is the devil, or Lucifer, or the Punisher of Evil or the Sinner -- or any other kind of title or name. As long as you are yourself…" He grinned wryly. "I'm not... good at any of this, at all, so please be patient with me while we figure this out, Viktor."

 

There was something exceptionally soft about the way Viktor's eyes shone, and Yuuri found himself returning to his previous thought: it really wouldn't be too hard, to fall for someone like Viktor. But at the same time -- "I don't think that what we have needs any kind of definition."

 

It was way too confusing for that.

 

Viktor nodded, smiling his endearing heart-shaped smile as he shuffled even closer still, nesting his head in the crook of Yuuri's neck and entwining their legs underneath the duvet. Yuuri's free hand found his fingers softly stroking through the short platinum strands, while their joined hands pushed back against their hearts, and Yuuri felt his melt, just a little. There was safety to be found in their bubble in Yuuri's room, from prying eyes and judging stares of people who thought they knew better. Even if Yuuri didn't know what tomorrow would bring, they were in this together from now on.

 

"Hey, Viktor?"

 

_"Mmh?"_ His voice was barely a whisper on Yuuri's skin, startlingly cold. The skater lowered his own until it matched the tone. "Why were you so silent the whole day? You barely talked after speaking with Ciao Ciao." Yuuri could feel his lashes moving as Viktor thought, his answer uncertain: "I don't want to... intrude on your life, Yuuri. This afternoon at the rink, and earlier with Phichit. You're comfortable around each other. You shouldn't feel the need to act differently just because I'm here."

 

"That's stupid, Viktor."  His hand tightened around the devil's, fingers squeezing around the ring reassuringly. "You're part of my life now, too. You don't have to keep in the background of it. If you want, I can --" he swallowed uneasily, "-- I can show you around Detroit in the next few days, if you want."

 

Viktor nodded, mouth ghosting along his neck in a silent _thank you_ and eyes closing again.

 

They descended into comfortable silence, Yuuri again toying with the pale strands. This felt _right_ , despite everything he knew about these kinds of situations telling him it shouldn't.

 

_He is full of sin, who lets the devil into his home._

_There is nothing but damnation waiting for those who dare speak to the devil._

_He is madness._

 

And yet. _Lucifer fell because he desired free will. He became a sinner so that we could live free of guilt. He follows his own principles and stays true to only himself. He wanted the freedom of choice._ All of those were words spoken and printed on flyers by the Temple of Lucifer, echoed by the members when applying for a new civil rights project.

 

Which ones were true, and which ones were lies?

 

It didn't really matter though, did it? Yuuri had seen a glimpse of Hell, and yet here he stood, living, sane. He had woken up in that place next to the devil after a night of 'sin' ( _thou shalt not partake in the desires of the flesh with the father or lies, for then thou shalt be condemned for all eternity to suffer thy sin_ ), and yet, he was allowed to leave again, of his own want. They had simply stood up, Viktor grasping Yuuri's hand uncertainly as he led him into the next room where their clothes were, and then allowed Yuuri to change back in the bedroom. The air had been heavy as he walked out again, up until he gave Viktor a wobbly smile and got one in return. They had started walking again, and this time Yuuri caught a glimpse of the outside while they reached a dome-like structure. Hell was a frozen wasteland, and it was so, so cold. It was cold and lonely and seemingly empty, with ice and crystals everywhere around them, reflecting light in sharp angles and forms.

 

_That's also something the books got wrong. There wasn't any hellfire at all, only ice._

 

And Yuuri was intimately familiar with it: it was a harsh and demanding mistress, and entirely, unforgivingly unyielding. It allowed no slips or mistakes.

 

Viktor had started trembling; a miniscule thing Yuuri otherwise wouldn't have noticed were it not for their current positions, so entangled in each other that there was no beginning to one nor an end to the other. Instinctively -- and almost completely on autopilot -- Yuuri tightened his hold on the platinum hair and hand, cradling Viktor closer to himself. The ice was harsh and unforgiving and so, so cold. How long ago must it have been, that Viktor was held so close to another? That Viktor had, in any way, felt cherished? Even if it was a mistake and a faux on Yuuri's side; even if Viktor one day decided that Yuuri's style of life was not meeting his demands and decided to leave -- until then, Yuuri would remain at his side and meet him where he was. Show him that he deserved to be loved.

 

"...say, Viktor? What did I promise, in the vows?"

 

Viktor turned, slightly, one eye blinking open. Yuuri could almost _feel_ the question, so he intervened, before Viktor could _question_. "I don't speak Latin, so I improvised quite a lot."

 

"You promised me eternity. To stay close to me and never leave. It is a sentiment that… has a lot of meaning for me, _Yuuri_." Viktor's voice was sincere in the way a barely-awake person was, overflowing with honesty as he spoke. Yuuri knows, as he has known the whole time when Viktor spoke to him earlier, when he'd slipped and called him _love_ in front of Phichit. Yuuri can hear it in the way Viktor speaks his name, each syllable filled to the brim with unhidden fondness, and he wonders -- how can someone with so little of his own give affection so easily? Viktor seems willing to drown Yuuri in it, from touches and glances to smiles and words. Yuuri feels overwhelmed by it, that the devil would choose to shower him in devotion, so he tries his best to reciprocate.

 

He was close to falling asleep himself, because there would be no way otherwise for him to say, quiet and warm and tender, _"I don't mind your affection, Viktor."_

 

Viktor breathed in sharply, a wretched whine bubbling up as he buried his nose in his neck, putting his lips against Yuuri's jugular with an open-mouthed shudder. Yuuri froze, a sudden _does the devil drink blood like vampires_ flitting through his head, before he relaxed and buried his own face in Viktor's hair, trying to ignore the almost-kisses the devil was nibbling into his skin with a desperate fervor.

 

_Good night._

 

* * *

 

Sitting on their comfy couch and drinking some warm tea, Ketty was staring blankly at Phichit and Yuuri, eye twitching. She'd hurried over in the morning, waking up Phichit and storming past him, ignoring Yuuri's indignant _hey!_ as she burst into his room and turned the lights on. Ketty had been ready for murder, not for -- well. Yuuri and some hot stranger. Or, rather, some hot stranger in Yuuri's room, in Yuuri's bed, sleeping peacefully cuddled up to Yuuri, hopefully wearing at least boxers. He had looked like the picture of innocence, despite their compromising situation and Yuuri's squinted glare, were it not for the fading bruises on his skin.

 

"So. What you're telling me -- the good looking guy currently in the kitchen is the _de facto_ devil? _**Whom you married**?!?"_ She was quite pale by now, probably, and her hands started shaking strong enough that the tea had to be set down, but Ketty was doing her best not to freak out. Phichit was looking at her in sympathy. "But-- how -- what?"

 

Viktor choose that moment to reemerge, holding his own cup of hot tea, sipping it quietly. His gaze was sharp and focused; calculating. Ketty was unnerved by it, slowly inching further away, but Viktor didn't even blink as he sighed, expression changing ever-so-slightly.

 

Yuuri interfered. "I suddenly disappeared from the face of earth in the middle of an ominous ritual and only Peach actually seemed to entertain that I was taken by the devil -- sorry, Viktor -- in a ritual _for the devil???_ "

 

Ketty opened her mouth to protest, but.

 

Why hadn't she thought about that possibility?

She'd seen Yuuri disappear -- they all had seen him vanish into thin air, so why?

They'd left in a blind panic, and Ketty was still panicked, but.

_There was a flash, and then Yuuri was... gone, wasn't he? He disappeared into the pentagram, no?_

Then _why_ hadn't she made the connection?!?

 

A glance at Phichit revealed a stony, accusatory glare.

 

"Humans aren't made to withstand divinity." Viktor shrugged as he sat down next to Yuuri, gripping the mug with both hands. Three pairs of eyes turned to him, and he looked grim, almost. "Your minds wouldn't handle the truth, so you bend it into a version that'll fit to you. And the longer time passes, the less you remember the details." He sighed, shadows crossing his eyes. "It was a measure father implemented, to make sure nothing could happen." His expression soured further, Viktor looking as if he'd swallowed something bitter at the mention of _father_ , before he glanced at Phichit. "Though Phichit seeing right through it was a welcome surprise -- you might be some sort of natural medium, to be unaffected." 

 

Phichit looked less than thrilled at the words, fingers trembling.

 

Viktor continued, looking back at Ketty. "You three are exempt from the rule now, because you believe me, even if it is on some subconscious level, but unless the others who were there find out, they'll bend the reality until they believe it. I'm sorry."

 

Ketty was silent, digesting the information while Phichit blinked wide-eyed at him. Yuuri -- she narrowed her eyes -- Yuuri cautiously put a hand on Viktor's shoulder, seemingly offering comfort _to the devil_ , who sagged into the touch. She pursed her lips. "... we don't plan on telling everyone that you're… that you're what you are, right, boys?"

 

Phichit turned his attention to her, and then to Yuuri. The teen bit his lip. "I don't actually… Yuuri?" The Thai looked lost, almost, and Ketty was harshly reminded that he was still barely a kid.

 

Viktor was the one who answered, surprisingly. "I do not plan on advertising it, no. I don't want any of you being in danger because of what I am." His eyes were impossibly blue. "But I won't lie, if someone were to ask me."

 

Ketty shuddered.


End file.
